


But Keep the Old

by Sildominarin



Category: Chalion Saga - Lois McMaster Bujold
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-02 12:19:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2811761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sildominarin/pseuds/Sildominarin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On her wedding day, Betriz finds the support she needs from the woman who has always been at her side.</p>
            </blockquote>





	But Keep the Old

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NaomiK](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NaomiK/gifts).



Her hands were shaking.

Betriz set down the tortoise shell brush with a clank on her vanity, pressing her fingers flat as if to stamp out the tremors. It did little to help, even as the woman turned to her mirror and gave her reflection her most determined expression. It was a look that had faced soldier and courtier and evil chancellor alike without a stutter, all at her royesse’s-royina now- need. All things far more dangerous and uncertain then what was before her now, and her hands had never been anything but steady then.

But death and midnight rides and unravelling politics they might have been, but none of them had been her wedding day.

And it had come up so quickly. Cazaril had not been in Cardegross a full day before they were betrothed, and before that it had been almost a solid month of fear and political maneuvering and planning to stop a curse and save a country. There had been no time to think of romance, and even when Betriz had let her mind turn to the man she was quite sure she loved, his impending death had only served to torment her already grieving mind. Her mind had been too busy trying not to imagine funerals to conjure up wedding day bliss. But now that day was here, her intended no longer living in fear of anything but drowning in paperwork, and she was….was…

Betriz was dimly aware of the tears pouring down her reflection’s cheek, and she had just enough time to be grateful that it was considered bad luck for a young bride to wear cosmetics on her wedding day when there was a brisk knock and Nan dy Witt bustled through the door with the blue sheath of her gown over both arms.

“Everything is going well on the groom’s side, so now we—“ The older woman stopped as soon as she saw Betriz’s wet face and swollen eyes, then laid the dress carefully over the chair and walked out again. The future bride had just long enough to panic about what that meant and where her old governess was going when the door opened again, and Iselle strode in.

The royina looked easily ten years older than her youthful age, elegent in the greens and yellows appropriate for a summer wedding. Her hair was curled and twisted into an elegent halo around her head, radiant with the auburn glow inherited from her father. She moved with the determination and decisiveness that had always defined her, and wasted no time in throwing her arms around the girl who was more sister then friend.  
“Nan said you were upset. What’s wrong?”

Betriz’s voice was choked with tears, and it took two tries to get the words out in an understandable manner. “I..I..I don’t think I’m ready.”

“Why not?” Iselle stroked her hair gently, as if it were she who was three years the senior, and not Betriz herself. “I assure you, you are far more ready than I was.”

“I don’t have the fate of a country riding on my shoulders. You didn’t have time for second thoughts.”

“True. I also didn’t know anything about my husband. I don’t think there’s much left to learn about yours.”

That brought out a watery giggle. It was true that she knew Caz better than most brides were ever able to know their espoused, and the fact that they had been friends long before any romance had bloomed between them-at least on her part- made It all the sweeter. And also wore heavily on her.

“But what if I can’t….you know…tonight?” She could feel her blush spreading across her face and down her neck. “I don’t want to...”

Iselle waved that away with her normal confidence. “Don’t listen to the terrible rumors floating around. It’s hardly terrifying. Besides, I doubt you could be more nervous than Cazaril. And he knows what he’s about. Bergon and I had to figure things out on our own.”

“Really?”

“Yes.” Iselle’s blush matched Betriz’s. “Well, I mean, we sorted it all out. But it would have been nice for one of us to know how to get started.”

They both nodded, then fell into embarrassed giggles. There had never been a subject the two of them could not talk through together, which had been a relief for Iselle when she’d begun to reach her womanhood. The explanations her grandmother and nursemaids had been hampered by propriety-as much as propriety had ever hampered the provincara- but Betriz had answered all of her questions and fears honestly. It felt good know to be able to have a similar conversation, on topics that were in some ways equally scary.

Finally, though, Iselle wiped away her tears n=of mirth and looked to her friend. “Do you love him, Betriz?”

The question was surprising, but the answer was direct. “Of course I do, Iselle. It’s Caz, I—“

“Then that’s all that matters.” The royina’s voice was firm. “You love him, and he adores you. And if you think that you are nervous, I have no doubt that Cazaril is scared witless. One of you has to be calm through this.”

The thought of steady, clever Caz-who had faced death and demon and political nonsense for both of them for over a year now- being afraid to wed her made her smile. He had always treated her respectfully, like an equal rather than an unlearned girl, and she had learned more from his calm guidance than almost any other time in her life. And the idea of spending the rest of their lives together, of always having that presence at her side, to help her learn more through what they were facing, steadied her more then any other thing she’d been able to summon herself.

Iselle watched her smile grow, to fill her eyes with the happy light that made men comment on a glowing, blushing bride, and pushed to her feet. “There you go. I thin kit’s time to let the tyre women in, and get ready. You have a wedding to attend, sister mine.”

And Betriz-thinking of the support her friend had given her in the past, and the trials and adventures they would face together in their new roles, no matter who else they became- stood up and nodded briskly.

“Yes. Yes we do.”


End file.
